


Pillow Talk

by quaint_camera



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Pillow Talk, Post-Coital, Sharing a Bed, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-18
Updated: 2012-03-18
Packaged: 2017-11-02 03:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quaint_camera/pseuds/quaint_camera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you miss them?" Jim asks one evening, his voice muffled by Starfleet standard-issue cotton sheets and the scent of sex lingering in the air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

"Do you miss them?" Jim asks one evening, his voice muffled by Starfleet standard-issue cotton sheets and the scent of sex lingering in the air.

 

Surprised, Spock cocks open one eye, but the sheets are obstructing his view, so all he can see is the back of Jim's very blonde head. "Miss who?" he ventures, cautiously. He has to scurry to suppress memories of his mother.

 

Jim rolls over onto his back, scowling at the ceiling. "All those minds..." He shoves down the sheets separating their faces with a beefy hand, his blunt fingertips ghosting against the skin of Spock's cheek. "Bones told me about it," he says, sounding abashed, maybe apologetic--Spock can't distinguish. "How all Vulcans are telepathically connected on some level."

 

"Mm," Spock affirms. "If by 'do I miss them?' you mean 'has the loss of their presence affected me negatively?', then yes."

 

Jim's intake of breath is subtle, but easily detected by Spock's sensitive ears. "What does it feel like? Without them?"

 

Spock sighs. "I will never understand the human fascination with feelings as opposed to facts," he quips, vaguely amused when Jim flushes. "But since you are my _t'hy'la_ , I shall indulge you."

 

Jim rolls over onto his side to face Spock, admiring the shape of those delicate, pointed ears. _Lover, lover, lover,_ he chants to himself, head buzzing. He doesn't know the implications of the word, of the fact that Spock just used it to describe him--this, _them,_ but he likes it.

 

_Lover._

 

No one's ever called him that before, not even Bones.

 

"You wanted to know how it feels. It feels--" Spock pauses, wanting to select the perfect word, "quiet."

 

Jim doesn't say anything, just takes it in with icy blue eyes that don't leave Spock's. He doesn't jump to offer comfort, or sympathy; his face doesn't soften. But something is shared within their gaze, something profound.

 

"Yeah," Jim whispers, thinking of hushed starspace. His fingers twitch against the sheets, and when he speaks, his voice is hushed, reverent. "I know exactly what you mean."


End file.
